


Echoes of Narcissus

by Golyadkin



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anxiety, Dramatic backstories out the wazzoo, Ghosts, M/M, OR IS IT, Paranormal, Romantic Subplot, Tarsus IV mentions, The rest of the crew is here too just without huge roles, piotr chekov being real maybe, sometime during the five year mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golyadkin/pseuds/Golyadkin
Summary: After a rescue attempt at a distant science colony goes wrong the crew is plagued by apparitions from their pasts and Chekov begins to question everything he believes in when he comes face to face with a man who could not possibly exist.





	1. Funeral Banter

It was raining in Noginsk. It was the kind of rain that made everything look grey, that made the world soft and grim and glow. Even though it was early afternoon it could easily be mistaken for evening, but for the little group huddled together in the wet, time was at a standstill.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov stood beside his parents, clad in an ill-fitting suit, trying to ignore the water seeping into his shoes. His hair was much too short, shorter than he usually liked it, but his mother had insisted he get it cut, so rather than falling in his eyes and catching to his lashes the way it had the week before, it clung to his forehead, wet and perfectly trimmed. His jacket was borrowed from a cousin a few years older and his tie was his father’s, but his shoes were his own, the only piece of him right now that really belonged to him. Even the pants were someone else’s. It was all too big and too damp and too heavy, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much of anything.

Distantly, he could hear the sound of his mother sobbing, his father’s ragged breathing, the rabbi reciting the psalm, but he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was watching something move in the grass near his cousin Anya’s foot. A snail, small and brown with drops of rain balanced precariously on its shell, making its slow way to some unknown location. He watched through half-lidded eyes as it traversed the slick grass and wondered vaguely how deep into its coiling shell the snail’s body went. At 13 he considered himself to be well past the age where he could, in good conscience break one open to examine the inner workings, and besides it wasn’t really a serious consideration, only a passing notion.

The snail made an attempt at a particularly thick patch of grass only to pause as though reconsidering and Pavel found himself wishing he had a shell. Just like the snails it would be a big spiral, getting smaller and smaller as you neared the centre and at the centre was where he would be. Curled up in the tiny tip he could hide from the rain and his mother’s tears and make a home for himself. He would be small and safe and warm in his shell and he would sleep for days, maybe even years. How peaceful, he thought. How quiet.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, dragging him back to reality. His father had put his arm around Pavel, but wasn’t looking at him, still staring at the priest with ferocity in his eyes and a set jaw. Pavel knew better, though, and could see behind the stoicism that there was pain, the shuddering breaths barely containing a sob that would never be released, not in front of his son. Andrei Chekov would never let that happen.

His mother was another story, openly weeping at the slightest provocation and currently barely holding it together. Her sister was trying to comfort her, but she was crying too. Their tears mixed with the rain and the two of them, dressed in black and soaked to the bone, looked so fragile that it scared Pavel. He never liked seeing her like this, eyes and nose both red, face contorted with agony like he had never seen. He wanted to reach out and take her hand and tell her it would be okay, that he would make things better, but his arms weren’t listening and all he could do was stare blankly at his mother, hoping she could hear the comfort he was silently speaking.

 _I’m sorry I can’t fix this_ , he was thinking, _I’m sorry you’re in so much pain. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_.

Feeling helpless he turned his attention back to the snail. It had progressed since he had last looked, past the grass clump and well on its way to a small grey stone. Somehow, the snail felt peaceful. The snail didn’t know where it was. The snail didn’t know why all these people were here. The snail didn’t feel or think or regret, it only moved on its way.

 _I wish I was a snail_.

“Pasha.”

Andrei was looking at him now, sorrow tainting his gaze. He tilted his head to tell his son to follow him. The service was over, it seemed, the rabbi was standing off to the side, hands folded solemnly in front of him, small black eyes giving the family a practiced look of sympathy and condolence.

Pavel followed his father, feet squishing through mud and grass, unable to get any wetter, but getting much filthier. Just as his father did, Pavel took a handful of soil and dropped it into the grave of his brother. It splattered unceremoniously across the top of the pinewood coffin and he found himself muttering, “sorry,” to no one in particular. Andrei’s hand came to rest on his back and directed him closer to the headstone where they would wait for the rest of the family to finish paying their respects.

He watched as his mother and then his aunt both added their own soil to the lid of the coffin, their hands shaking from both grief and the chilling rain, knuckles red and cheeks flushed. His mother, Marina, came to join them where they stood, taking her sister’s hand one last time before leaning into Andrei for support and comfort. Pavel stood in front of them, feeling exposed and a little out of place, one of their hands on his shoulder, he couldn’t tell whose. There was an odd sense of guilt in his heart, like he should be crushed, crying, screaming, like he should be feeling something, but he didn’t. He only felt the rain.

~O~

“This is useless.”

“It’s not useless, you’re getting better,” came Sulu’s muffled voice from behind the mesh mask. He made another lunge and Chekov just barely managed to hop out of the way. “See? You didn’t even get hit that time.”

With a groan, Chekov pulled up his fencing mask, relieved at the feel of the AC on his hot skin. Only a half hour into their two hour lesson and he was already drenched in perspiration, the familiar ache of underdeveloped muscles getting tested to their boundaries creeping into him having not entirely dissipated from the day before. Breathing heavily through his open mouth he spat out, “That time. I’ve been hit every other time. By the end of today I’ll look like Swiss cheese.” He took a quick sniff. “And I’ll smell like blue cheese. You’re too good, I can’t keep up.”

Sulu sighed and straightened up from his defensive posture. “I’m going easy on you, Pavel. These are important skills to know and you can’t expect to master them after only a week, that’s just not realistic.” Tucking his rapier beneath his arm he removed his mask to get a better look at his miserable pupil. Chekov noted bitterly that he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “If you keep being so negative you really won’t progress, there has to be mutual effort.”

“I am trying, Hikaru! I just don’t think I’m going to make any progress if you keep showing off.” He pointed a finger to stop the pilot from retorting. “And don’t say you’re not because you are. I’m pretty sure a lot of those moves you’ve been pulling are not for beginners.”

“I may have thrown in a couple of more advanced techniques,” Sulu admitted with a shrug, “But that doesn’t mean you just give up. Come on, put your mask back on. I’ll try to tone it back a bit.”

Chekov did not put his mask back on. Instead he wandered over to the seat by the wall where they had left their water bottles and took a swig. “I didn’t want to learn fencing,” he muttered. “This was your idea, you’re the one who suggested it. It doesn’t even make sense, when would I use a sword on a starship? It would make more sense to learn more hand-to-hand or phaser marksmanship, not how to stick someone with a big knife.” He cast a glare to his friend who was currently standing cross-armed, hip cocked, mouth downturned. “These aren’t even real swords, they are giant pins. If I ever did fight someone with a sword I don’t think they would wait for me to get my mask on.”

“It’s about more than just ‘sticking them’; it’s about strategy and agility and speed.” Sulu shook his head and joined Chekov by the bench. “Besides not every civilization we encounter uses phasers or guns. We’ve been down on planets before where they use swords, spears, bows and arrows, and are you forgetting about that encounter with Kang? You used a sword then.”

Chekov grimaced. That hadn’t been a proud moment for him, the entire ordeal revealing a side of himself he wasn’t all that thrilled to discover. No one mentioned it, everyone too polite or uncomfortable to bring up what had been an embarrassment to them all.

“That was different,” he replied, gripping his water bottle tightly. “I didn’t want to use a sword and I don’t plan to ever again.”

“You can’t know what’s going to happen. Who knows what’s out there.” Sulu watched Chekov smooth down his hair in the mirrored wall across from them. The room was small, one of many that made up the training facilities on board and while some were connected by low walls or netting this one was its own entity. Neither Chekov nor Sulu were much for being watched while practicing combat and never really felt comfortable in the more open areas where Kirk and the security teams took up their arms. It had the benefit of being quieter and made their sessions less likely to be intruded upon. It also had the benefit of the mirrors, intended to help officers perfect their posture and form, but more often a distraction to the young navigator, much to Sulu’s chagrin. “If you cared half as much about training as you did about your hair you’d be an expert by now.”

Hair sufficiently flattened, Chekov huffed a laugh and cast a grin to his friend. “I only train with you so I can look good in front of the ladies with a sword in my hand. If the rest of me does not look good too it is a waste of effort.”

“You won’t look very good if you can’t parry when the time comes.” Resigned to the fact that their session was likely not starting up again any time soon, Sulu took a seat on the bench, and placed his mask and rapier down next to him carefully. Picking up his own water bottle he asked, “Speaking of ladies, how’s Leslie? You haven’t said much about her lately.”

A twinge of something flickered in Chekov’s chest, but he just shrugged nonchalantly and looked down at his sword. “She dumped me a week ago. Something about us not being… er… compatible.”

Sulu’s reflection was watching him with bemusement when he looked up. “How long did that last? Three weeks? You two were supposed to be in love.”

“Two and a half weeks.” He bounced the rapier up and down on the hard matting beneath his feet and gazed at his own reflection. Did he look sad? He tried to look more indifferent, but just wound up looking disgusted with the situation. “I was going to break up with her anyways, it was getting… she was getting clingy.”

“Sorry to hear that. She was a nice girl. Very pretty. I thought the two of you were well matched.”

“Apparently not,” Chekov replied. This conversation was getting old fast.

“There’s something else you need to work on. Give up swordsmanship and figure out how to make a relationship last longer than a month. I swear, you’ve dated more girls in the past year than there are officers on board the Enterprise.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I haven’t dated the entire security team.”

“Exactly my point. When was the last time you went on a date?” Chekov asked, turning to face Sulu defiantly. “We’ve been out here for three years and unless you’ve been hiding someone up in your arboretum I don’t think you can be one to speak.”

Sulu didn’t reply, he couldn’t. Chekov knew he hadn’t had much luck in the relationship department, and he knew that the jabs might be a little harsh, but he also knew that it was pure banter. Even now there was a smile growing on the pilot’s face, pushing through his forced scowl. “You’ve got me there,” he admitted through his apple-cheeked grin. “But in all honesty, by the time you figure out what you want, you’ll be too old to pursue it.”

“Worry about yourself, five years is a long time to be on your own.” Taking another swig of water he sat down on the other end of the bench. “What about all those girls in the science labs? They would love to get their hands on you.”

“I don’t know, they’re all very invested in their work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of them let loose. I doubt they’d be interested in me anyways.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Sulu gave Chekov a suspicious look and the navigator responded with a coy grin. “Why? What have you heard?”

A shrug. “Nothing much, but there are rumours.”

“And how would you hear about any rumours? You’re not exactly a social butterfly.”

“I’m having drinks with Mr. Scott tomorrow. I went shopping with Uhura just last week.”

“You’re a suck-up, not a socialite.”

Chekov scoffed and brought a hand up to his chest. “You wound me, Mr. Sulu. A Russian always knows. There is not much that can get past me.”

“Leslie told you?”

“I know other people. We ensigns like to keep each other informed,” he told Sulu proudly. “I may be a member of Alpha Crew, but I am still an ensign.” He took a sip of water. “Divya told me.”

“The rumour mill is alive and well below decks. I never see you talk to any ensigns, I didn’t even know you knew Divya.”

Divya was an ensign who Sulu knew well. Her low status was offset by a masters degree in xenobiology and a passion for botany, and she was known to spend a great deal of her spare time in the labs studying alien plant life. Chekov had known her before his transferal to bridge crew and while it was true they didn’t speak much anymore, and he didn’t have a great deal of free time of late, she still kept him informed in exchange for a bit of his own tasty information.

“We knew each other when I was still in stellar cartography. We kept in touch.”

“Apparently. And what did she tell you?” Sulu didn’t seem to actually be all that interested, sounding like he didn’t really care what was being passed down the ensign grapevine. Unlike Chekov, he was never as eager to know the business of his shipmates and was always much more content to stay in his own little world. That was all fine and well with Chekov, but if gossip was bubbling about his friend he thought it would be right, not to mention fun, to make the pilot aware of it.

“Those girls in the labs have been talking about you,” Chekov told him with a knowing smile. “They think you’re cute. They’ve been flirting with you.”

The casual demeanor Sulu had settled into was pushed aside and he looked to his friend in surprise, eyes wide. “They’ve- Flirting? Really? I hadn’t even noticed.” He turned his astonished gaze to the ground and Chekov had to hold back a laugh. It was rare for Sulu to be caught off guard and he always enjoyed when he was able to fluster him.

“Don’t look so scared, Hikaru.”

“I’ve never been good at noticing that stuff, I hope I haven’t been leading them on.”

“Would you have flirted back? If you had known?” he asked, genuinely curious as to the answer.

Sulu glanced up at him and smiled uneasily. “Probably not. They’re nice girls, but they’re not really my type.” He scoffed. “Even if I wanted to I wouldn’t know how to flirt back.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

“Oh sure, but I’m not very good at it. I always end up stammering or getting embarrassed. We can’t all be Captain Kirk, you know.”

“The Captain would be very honoured that you think so highly of him.”

“Not as highly as you. I bet you’d give your right arm to have the Captain turn some of his charm your way.”

Chekov looked affronted and furrowed his brow. “Not at all. I respect him.”

“You worship him.”

Chekov smacked Sulu’s arm playfully and the pilot laughed with that bright sunny smile of his. Rubbing his arm he leaned in to say, “Hey, maybe he’s what you’re looking for. He’s certainly got the looks.” Chekov rolled his eyes and stood up from the bench, wandering back out into the room, rapier in hand. “Of course it would be against regulations, fraternization with a superior officer, but you would make it work. The secrecy would only make it more exciting. Think of the late night rendezvous’, the hidden looks, the clandestine nature of it all…” The rapier whooshed as Chekov swung it in a figure 8 in the air in front of him, a smile tugged at his lips as he listened to his friend’s teasing. He would never admit to enjoying it, much like Sulu would never admit to enjoying the little claims that Russia had invented the world, but Sulu would always grin when he heard it coming and Chekov was no different. “Of course, you would have to compete with Mr. Spock.”

“Hah! Mr. Spock would have to compete with me. No one can charm like a Russian.” He struck a pose with the sword and observed in the mirror that he looked equal parts dashing and ridiculous. He had been joking before, but maybe there was something to this fencing thing after all. He did look quite good in the outfit and the weapon, he liked to think, was a handsome addition to his natural bearing.

Movement in the mirror caught his eye as Sulu got up and put down his bottle. “Put your mask back on, Don Juan,” he said tossing the mesh to the navigator before reaching for his own. “You’ve sidetracked me enough for one session, we need to get back to work or you won’t have the time to woo your Captain.”

Chekov made a face and then put the mask back on. He assumed an exaggerated defensive pose and prepared himself to be soundly beaten by the much more experienced swordsman.


	2. Redshirts

They only managed to get in 20 minutes of fencing, or the nearest thing to fencing Chekov could manage, before the comms on the wall chirped and Uhura’s voice rang through the speaker, calling them up to the Bridge. The men exchanged a confused glance.

“Is something wrong?” Sulu asked.

“We’ve received a distress call. I can’t tell you much other than it doesn’t look good. The Captain requests your presence on the Bridge.”

“Well… can we shower first?” Chekov asked.

There was a pause before she replied, “The Captain, as well as the rest of us I’m sure, actively encourage it.”

They exchanged another look as the comm cut off and each gave a shrug before gathering up their stuff and heading for the door.

The gym had its own bathroom and shower facilities and in 15 minutes they had showered and gotten into their uniforms, and then they were on the turbolift up to the Bridge, squeaky clean and respectably fragrant.

Upon arriving at the Bridge, a full three hours before the Alpha shift was meant to begin, they were greeted with the sight of the Captain standing quite dramatically in front of his chair. Spock and Dr. McCoy were present as well, one looking stiff and the other looking tired, and Scotty could be seen hovering around Uhura’s communications station looking worried.

“Nice of you to join us,” Kirk declared as the two young officers trotted dutifully over to their seats and tapped out their reliefs. It seemed to Chekov that the man was on edge, still not sitting but rather rocking lightly from side to side with his hands clasped behind his back. As Chekov slid into his seat he wondered what could possibly have caused such a state that merited calling the Alpha crew to duty so early before their shift.

Bitterly, he thought about the breakfast he had skipped over to get to training in time. It had been his hope to head down to the dining hall with Sulu after fencing to grab something warm, he enjoyed taking his meals with Sulu and exercise always helped to build up an appetite, but it seemed that it was not to be. Thoughts of warm coffee and delicious synthesized oatmeal hung heavy in his mind as he listened to the Captain’s debriefing.

“We have just received word from Starfleet,” Kirk informed them, “that the colony on Praeda VI has lost contact. We’re not sure what happened, but the last transmission we received from them is troubling.”

“There’s an understatement,” McCoy interjected from where he was leaning against the backrest of the centre seat. “That transmission was downright peculiar. Dr. Figg looked ready to break down right there on camera. Almost paranoid, like there was something waiting for her just outside the door.”

“Well if they’re under attack then it’s best we get there as quickly as possible.” The two men looked genuinely spooked, exchanging worried glances and neither making a move to sit down. Sulu and Chekov exchanged their own looks before nodding to their captain, accepting the command. “Mr. Chekov, how quickly can you get us into orbit?”

“I can plot a course that would get us there in three days, Keptin,” Chekov informed him, tapping various numbers through the control panel to verify his calculations.

“Not fast enough.”

A little perturbed, he swiveled his seat around again to look questioningly to Kirk. “Sir?”

“There’s an asteroid belt dividing the solar system, how quickly will it take if we go through that?”

There was a pause as Chekov registered what he had just been asked before he twisted around once more to adjust the course and make the calculations. “Just under two days, sir. It would be faster, but we would need to drop out of Warp to traverse the asteroids safely.”

Kirk worried his lip and glanced over to Spock and then the doctor. “Hm, it’ll have to do. Plot the course, Mr. Chekov, and get us through there as quickly as possible, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye, sir.”

Rubbing his chin and seeming no less anxious than when they had walked in, Kirk turned and finally took a seat as Sulu took them into Warp.

~O~

The Bridge was oddly quiet aside from some murmuring between Uhura and Scotty, and although there was nothing to be done until they arrived at the planet, Bones remained sentinel at Kirk’s side. It wasn’t like this was the first time Sulu had ever seen his commanding officers in distress, far from it, but there was something about the way they were so thoroughly disturbed that gave him an intense feeling of urgency. The sooner they got to the planet the better.

But navigating an asteroid belt was tricky. When they reached it the next day, it overwhelmed their attention. Sulu was an excellent pilot, one of the best in Starfleet, but the Enterprise was a large ship and it took all of his wits to get them through. Chekov helped as much as he could, taking readings and scans to map out the gargantuan asteroids and ultimately form some route to get them to the other side. It was no wonder that Kirk insisted the two of them arrive early for their shift the previous day. A lesser set of officers would have taken much longer to safely cross the belt, but the two of them were experienced and exceptionally efficient.

Having only worked together for two years they had a connection that not many other officers could lay claim to. Their silent rhythm and intimate knowledge of each others abilities and minds made them a force to be reckoned with, and they managed to complete the task without an audible word between them. However, their screens were a constant stream of communication, a language of numbers and coordinates forming an odd conversation that ultimately conveyed everything they needed it to. It wasn’t until they arrived in open space and were on their way to the systems Goldilocks Zone that they had the opportunity and brain space to begin speaking again both to one another and their Captain.

The closer they got to their destination, the more Kirk seemed to edge forward in his seat. When Praeda VI came into view he abandoned his chair entirely. Shortly before arriving at the belt they had watched the message from the colony again on the main viewer and Chekov and Sulu were at last able to see what had caused so much tension in their superiors. As Bones had said, the transmission was eerie.

The scientist, a geologist by the name of Elizabeth Figg, was tired but alert, her wide eyes underscored by deep bags that spoke of fear and sleeplessness. She never sat still, constantly moving her hands or adjusting her seat or peering worriedly at something out of shot. Her words tumbled out in a shaky breath with no real punctuation and carrying a definitive dread. Just watching her was enough to make any person anxious and the helmsmen found themselves constantly glancing back at Kirk as Figg went on and on about a woman who should not be there and a group of people determined to do some horrific thing. Everything she said was so specific that it was impossible to understand out of context, but the message was clear: she was in grave danger and only the Enterprise crew could save her.

So when they arrived at the planet the entire bridge crew seemed to lean forward with baited breath. As Sulu brought them into orbit Kirk looked around at them all in what could be either excitement or agitation.

“Uhura, try to contact the colony,” he said at last. “We don’t have a lot of information to go on and we don’t want to be barging in unannounced.”

“Yes, Captain.”

He turned to look up at the viewscreen where the planet was floating serenely. From so far away it looked like any other planet, perfectly peaceful and safe, but in the backs of all of their minds were the final words from Figg’s message: “They’re here. Oh God, they’re here.” The transmission had cut out shortly after with the scientist looking close to tears as whatever was off screen came suddenly closer. There was no way of knowing what or who that thing was and while it did make the adventure more intriguing it also added an unwanted suspense. McCoy had noted that she seemed paranoid, possibly delusional, and it was entirely possible the whole thing was just the ravings of a madwoman, but the lack of transmissions following this one made it seem that something grave had occurred and it was no easy task to find out what.

“No reply, sir,” Uhura informed them.

“I wish we knew what was waiting for us down there,” Kirk muttered. “I don’t like going in blind and putting people at unnecessary risk.”

“I’m just hoping there’s still someone left to wait for us down there. Whatever happened here happened over a week ago,” Bones reminded him. He had been quiet for most of the trip, but seemed to be regaining his footing now that the wait was over. “A subspace transmission would have taken at least three days to arrive at Starfleet let alone get to us. “

“We have not received any further word from either the planet or the Federation, Captain,” Spock reported, seemingly unfazed by the whole situation as he often was. His cool countenance was often a source of support to the crew, whether the Vulcan intended it or not. Seeing him in constant control gave many a feeling of security and reassurance, or at the very least it was good for a laugh. At the moment he anchored them. “The likelihood of there being any danger is significantly less than it would have been had we arrived at the moment the message was sent. At any rate,” he continued, “I would suggest a full security team to accompany you.”

“Agreed,” Kirk muttered. “Uhura, tell security to meet me in the transport room. Bones, Spock, Sulu, with me.”

Chekov glanced at Sulu and the helmsman returned the surprised look with one of his own before getting up from his seat and joining the trio in the lift. Even before the doors had slid shut he could feel his heart racing. He enjoyed away missions, they all did, but this one he was not looking forward to.

Upon beaming down to the planet, there came an overwhelming perfume, one that may have been pleasant had the team’s nerves not been so high. Whipping out their phasers, the team of six looked around warily, the security team’s learned instincts setting them eternally on edge. It took them no time at all to see that the clearing they had been deposited into was otherwise empty, and as the adrenaline settled to more manageable levels they took a look at their surroundings.

It was immediately evident that the source of the smell was a lush and tangled forest, seemingly composed entirely of flowering trees. Bright white petals and shimmery green leaves were infinitely fascinating to Sulu, his scientific mind already analyzing the shapes and colours and root systems. It took some effort to drag his eyes away from the canopy and down to the beautifully entangled branches and trunks. The land was a sort of paradise, but lurking behind the gorgeous flora was a danger they were all too aware of.

Kirk checked the Padd he carried in his free hand before gesturing silently for the away team to follow him into the brush. A second away team, another group of security and Dr. McCoy, beamed down behind them and armed themselves before starting after their comrades. It was difficult to push through the foliage, it grew so closely together, but Sulu managed to keep up. Several twisting trees separated him on all sides from the group, but he could still see the red of their shirts to both sides as well as the gold and blue pair up ahead. All of them radiated anticipation. Sulu’s own mind was finding it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.

It seemed that the small clearing they had beamed into was at the centre of a copse of the glittering trees and the farther they walked the more variety they saw. All of the foliage was evolved to the task of sharing minimal space with maximum numbers, but the colour and textures of the bark that he passed by was varied, the leaves and flowers that adorned them intoxicatingly diverse. The scent they first encountered permeated the entire area, but there were earthy undertones – no doubt from the soil barely visible beneath the masses of roots – and a very specific scent that he could not quite place.

Every planet had its own scent, the plant life and air never being quite the same, and after the sterile nature of the starship it was always that much more noticeable. Uhura had often told him that she missed the smell of Earth. He responded that Earth smelled like a great many things depending on where you were, but she shook her head and told him that no, Earth always smelled like home. He never understood that entirely, but here it was easier to see the distinction.

A movement to his left caught his eye and he swung around sharply, raising his phaser, but there was nothing there. His heart was suddenly racing and without noticing it he had become afraid. But there was nothing; only the slow movement of the officers around him.

“Sir?” one of the security team asked.

“No,” he replied, eyes scanning the trunks and branches, “it was nothing.”

Calm down, Sulu, he told himself, It was probably just an animal. There can’t be plants without animals.

But they didn’t know what had attacked the colony, for all he knew it may have been a dangerous animal. It was a big forest and the planet was largely unexplored, who knew what was out there.

Don’t think like that, he scolded himself, there’s nothing dangerous in these woods. It might have only been a beetle or a lizard. Besides, you’re surrounded by trained professionals. Nothing could hurt you out here, you’re perfectly safe.

Somehow, the thought was not reassuring.

Walking on they came into an area that was more spread out. Instead of flashes of uniform he could see whole people, phasers still drawn and no less tense. The trees changed from twisting and brown to tall, straight trunks with pale bark. The roots gave way to shrubs and creeping ivy, and with less to hinder them they moved faster. It wasn’t long before they reached the edge of the forest.

All of them came to a stop just shy of the edge where Kirk gave silent directions for each member, splitting them into teams to survey the area. Past the tree behind which he stood, Sulu could see the tiny science community that had been developed over the past year. Squat buildings with worn footpaths between them, backing up to a cliff face that seemed to go up forever and disappeared in both directions into the surrounding trees. According to what he had been told, the planet was mostly plant life, an oxygen-rich atmosphere making it easy for the flora to flourish. He wished he had time to explore and maybe pick up a few samples, but the mission came first and getting new organic material onto the Enterprise was paperwork hell.

The sugary smell of the flowering trees followed them into the open, significantly less overpowering, but still a mighty presence. As the team filtered through, they broke off and moved carefully toward the community, crouched down as though it would make their bright-red jerseys harder to spot. Kirk and Spock had gone off to the left while Sulu and Bones were sent right, each of the pairs accompanied by a fleet of security. When they reached the first building they took shelter behind its aluminum walls and peered out into the empty walkways.

Rescue missions like this one always had the feel of an old-Earth spy movie, but Sulu would take a peaceful scientific adventure over a heart-pounding possibly fatal confrontation any day.

Prior to taking on his command gold status, Sulu had been a science officer. His fascination with plant physiology and his knowledge of astrophysics had gotten him far in the Academy, and he had began work on the Enterprise as an astrophysicist. It hadn’t taken long, however, for him to discover that it was not at all what he wanted. Living in the belly of the ship, let off only to collect samples and classify unintelligent lifeforms, lent itself to a life of monotony. He grew bored. When he found out that not only was there a position open on the Bridge, but that he was also very qualified for it Sulu had snapped it up, changed his uniform and began his exciting new life as the Enterprises newest helmsman. More stars, more speed, more adventure and action. It was everything he had been seeking out in Starfleet. This situation did not qualify.

After ensuring the coast was clear they flooded the courtyard and began peering through windows. They were quick to discover the bodies of several scientists strewn about within the buildings and the senior officers rushed to examine them. The woman Sulu approached was laying just behind the door of an office, her lab coat thrown open and stained red. It didn’t take a medical degree to know she was well past saving. Heart in his throat he instructed the security officer who had found her to continue searching the rooms, never taking his eyes off the face of the scientist. There was nothing he could do for this woman, Meryl Ochoa her nametag read, and it sickened him to know that. But she was cold, had been for some time, and even if she wasn’t this wasn’t exactly Sulu’s area of expertise.

It soon became clear that there was no one alive in that building, nor the buildings adjacent, so he went back outside and left the security team to continue their search. At the centre of the community, immediately in front of the largest building, which seemed to be built directly into the looming rock face, there was a courtyard of sorts. Spock and Bones each wandered in carrying tricorders and stood examining the readouts in the yard as the others busied themselves trying doors and counting off bodies. After a brief period, the Captain joined them, never one to stray from his closest friends for long, and Sulu made his way over as well.

“I’m not getting any readings of humanoid life here, Jim,” McCoy was saying. “It looks like we were too late.”

“Damn,” Kirk replied with a sigh. He gazed around at the abandoned buildings with a forlorn crease between his eyebrows. “All these innocent lives. What could have happened here?”

“It would seem prudent, Captain, to not yet let our guards down,” Spock interjected as he made adjustments to his tricorder. “If there was indeed some lifeform that attacked the scientists in this colony it is entirely possible that it is not humanoid.”

“You’re saying it might still be on this planet?”

“I am saying that restricting our views of what is and is not dangerous to a lifeform similar in build and function to our own would be unwise. After a great many encounters ourselves with extremely unusual, or even non-corporeal, intelligent beings it would be best not to limit our field of view.” Satisfied with the adjustments, he raised an eyebrow to the new readings on his screen. “For example, we have not seen any life on this planet up until this point, discluding the plant life we passed through, and yet my readings would indicate that we are surrounded by organisms.”

McCoy leaned in to get a better look and pursed his lips. “Just because we’re surrounded by animals doesn’t mean we’re in danger. Whatever took out this entire colony would have had to be large enough to get through whatever defenses these people put up. None of these lifeforms are much bigger than a dog.” He looked up at Kirk and grimaced. “But I do agree that we shouldn’t make any snap judgments until we get some more evidence of what did happen.”

“There’s marks of phaser fire on the walls of some of these buildings,” Sulu supplied, earning a start from the group who apparently hadn’t noticed he was there. “So whatever killed all these people put up quite a fight.”

“So why didn’t they send a distress call?” Kirk muttered with a frown. “Dr. Figg had time to send a subspace message, a full ten minutes of communication, out to Starfleet, but she didn’t raise a distress call.”

“And why didn’t any of the others send one either?” Bones continued. “It might have been shock. Figg looked like she was on the brink of a complete nervous breakdown, it’s entirely possible that she wasn’t thinking clearly and a subspace message was the best answer she could come up with at the time. The others may have been overwhelmed before they could call out for help.”

“It is my experience,” Spock said, “that when faced with situations of immediate danger it is rare that humans will follow the logical course of action.”

McCoy scowled at him. “They were scared, Spock.”

“Precisely.”

“So why don’t we see what they were scared of,” Kirk said, interrupting the argument that would no doubt ensue. “Bones, did you figure out what did kill these people? It may give us some insight.”

The doctor glared at his Vulcan companion, but complied. “Lacerations to the chest and throat,” he grumbled. “Physical trauma. I’ve only scanned a few of the victims, but from what I can see they’ve all got very similar wounds. I’ll need to get them back up to the ship before I can be certain, but I don’t think there were any advanced weapons involved. No phasers of any kind other than the ones the inhabitants used in self-defense.”

“So it might very well have been an animal.”

“It could have been a lot of things, Jim. It could even have been a person.”

“No,” Kirk said lowly, looking past his medical officer at the bodies that were now lining the walkways. “No, I don’t believe a human could have done this.”

“We cannot disregard the option that what happened here may have been a display of human violence and no more,” Spock put in. “There is nothing to indicate otherwise and until it is disproven it must remain a possibility.”

Kirk cast a pained look to Spock before nodding. “Absolutely right,” he admitted. “Though it pains me to think. Still, Figg mentioned that there was a woman, someone who ‘shouldn’t be here.’ I don’t suppose we know what that means yet unless there was a stowaway or an invasion.”

“Her statements suggest that whoever it was that attacked this colony was known to her,” Spock deduced. “Perhaps a review of her service record cross-referenced with a list of the inhabitants would help to narrow our field of focus to who said woman might be.”

“There were fifty people on this planet,” McCoy provided. “Fifty people we can confirm as being present at the time of the attack. So I suppose if we find fifty-one we’ll know whether this woman was involved.”

Sulu wasn’t paying attention. Instead his gaze was taken once more by the trees on the outskirts of the encampment. A feeling had been growing the longer they had been at the colony, like he was being watched, and yet there was no visible culprit. The trees were vacant of staring eyes and, to his discomfort, any signs of the animals that Spock had said surrounded them. The movement he had seen in the woods crept back into his mind and he pushed it away as being a figment of his imagination. But still, there was something very wrong. This place didn’t sit well with him.

There had been no noises aside from the away team, no chirps or calls or any sort of noise that would indicate the life he knew was there existed. It was as though the little community was silencing the natural sounds of the woods. Now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been any wind either. The trees had remained perfectly still since they had arrived. Life was at a standstill on this lush planet.

A sudden cry went up among the security team and the little group standing at the centre of the courtyard were shocked out of their respective thoughts and conversations. Looking toward the sound they were met by the sight of several red-clad officers taking off to the source of the sound, namely, the building set up against the cliff face they were currently standing in front of. The security streamed by them and the group was quick to join the crowd and see what the commotion was about.

Upon entering the building they were directed through the main room, past computers and technology Sulu could not recognize the function of, and through a set of double doors into a much smaller room occupied by a very large piece of equipment and a heavy metal door. Just in front of the door were two figures low to the ground, one easily recognizable as Starfleet, but the other, crumpled and coated in red, unfamiliar.

McCoy was the first to reach the pair, pushing aside interested officers to kneel next to the unconscious figure.

“She’s alive,” the security officer told him hurriedly. “I found her in here. I didn’t think she was at first, I don’t think she’s breathing, but she had a pulse.”

“She is alive,” the doctor replied. He had pulled out his tricorder and as soon as the readings came up set it aside to reach for a hypo with one hand and the woman’s face with the other. “Just barely, her heart is very weak, but she’s alive.”

Kirk knelt on her other side and Spock stood close at hand. One look at the woman made the Captain shoot McCoy an urgent look before turning his full attention to her, wiping the blood and hair from her face and shifting her into a better position for Bones to apply the hypospray. Sulu watched as the little group dashed to revive her, to get her lungs to inflate and her eyes to open. He didn’t dare step any closer in case he got in the way, but his curiosity was intense and his panic numbing. The only survivor of a massacre and here she was. How had she done it?

“I need to get her up to the ship,” McCoy declared as he gave her another shot. “I need something stronger than this.”

Kirk quickly complied, slipping his arms under her form to lift her bridal style while he heaved himself to his feet. “Mr. Sulu, take control. Get the victims organized and recorded then return to the ship. Mr. Spock, call Mr. Scott.”

As he turned to address his science officer the lolling head of their rescued victim rolled in Sulu’s direction. Even with her eyes closed and smeared with blood, even upside-down with her hair hanging in clumps, he suddenly recognized her. She was nearly dead, but Elizabeth Figg had survived. With a hum the glow of the transporter beam enveloped her and she and the Captain disappeared leaving Sulu in command.

He looked around at the security officers who gazed at him expectantly. “You heard the Captain,” he told them and the group dispersed.

Just as he was leaving a movement once again tugged at the corner of Sulu’s vision, something flickering near the metal door, and he twisted around to find nothing there. He looked around at the empty side of the room, his heart suddenly pounding. Why am I scared? He wondered. Taking a deep breath he turned back towards the door leading to the main room and found he wasn’t alone. A young redshirt was standing in the entrance staring at the metal door, looking more than a little unnerved. It only took him a moment to realize he was being watched and he cast a glance at his commanding officer. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered. “Thought I saw something.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving Sulu alone in the room.


	3. Different Sides of the Dipper

When Sulu returned to the Enterprise a few hours later with the remaining away team he was exhausted. The number of corpses one man could count off and catalogue was only so high. A full 49 people had been laid out and identified, each one being noted down and wrapped up in a protective covering to keep any wildlife that might actually exist away. Being the senior officer on planet he had been forced to acknowledge every individual person himself, looking into their faces, reading their nametags, and copying information into his PADD. He was only grateful he wasn’t in charge of zipping up the bags. A single glance at a face was enough to burn it into his mind for the rest of his life, getting close enough to see each smile line and worry-worn brow might have destroyed him.

When he stepped off the transporter pad, a relief team of security personal stepping up behind him. His feet ached and he longed for a shower, but there was still work to be done and he needed to report to the others.

“Captain Kirk?” Sulu asked the engineer who had brought him back up to the ship.

“Sick Bay,” the young man replied with barely a glance upward.

Charming, Sulu thought, giving the engineer a nod that probably went unseen and heading out toward the Medical bay. He had no doubt that Kirk would still be there, ever the benevolent hero, watching over their newest patient. Sulu himself was more than curious as to the state of the geologist they had taken aboard and even through the terror of what he had witnessed on Praeda VI thoughts and concern for the woman had nagged at the back of his mind.

When he arrived at his destination and the doors slid open he was greeted, entirely unsurprisingly, by the Captain, the doctor, and Mr. Spock all gathered around McCoy’s small desk. At the sound of the doors opening the trio paused in their conversation to turn their attention toward the wearied pilot.

“Mr. Sulu!” Kirk declared, a smile affixed to his face but not quite full. “I trust everything went well?”

A little perturbed by the strained cheeriness in his Captain’s voice, Sulu simply nodded and said, “As well as could be expected.” He handed the PADD to Spock as he continued, “All members of the colony are accounted for and I’ve input all the information into the ship’s databanks. No extra bodies, I’m afraid, there’s no sign of whoever or whatever did this.”

The smile faltered under a troubled brow, but Kirk pushed through to maintain a sunny façade. “Well, I’m sure after a closer examination of the bodies and a testimony from our survivor, the answer will become clear as crystal. I have no doubt we’ll figure this out before we hear back from Starfleet.”

“Maybe not, Jim,” McCoy interjected. The doctor was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and a frown deep set in his mouth. “I’ve been monitoring Dr. Figg’s status from here and reviewing the test results from my scans and it’s not looking promising.”

“Her injuries?”

“Oddly enough, no,” McCoy replied, looking down to his computer monitor. “I can’t figure what it is exactly, but there’s an anomaly in her brainwaves, a fluctuation in the beta patterns that shouldn’t be there.” He shook his head and looked around at his comrades. “As of yet we don’t know what the effects of these anomalies are, but I can already tell you it’s not good. The strange thing is, though, that I don’t know where the anomalies are coming from. There’s no physical damage to her brain, no traces of toxins that could cause these kinds of readings, and nothing in her previous records that indicate anything like this.”

“When we viewed the transmissions Dr. Figg sent to Starfleet, Doctor,” Spock stated, “you mentioned that she seemed paranoid, almost psychotic. Is it possible that was the result of these same beta fluctuations?”

McCoy squinted up at the Vulcan as he spoke as though working through some great problem in his thoughts. “It is possible, but we can’t know for certain until she wakes up. I’ve never seen this sort of thing before, any and all symptoms are entirely up to speculation until we can actually witness it for ourselves.”

“Any idea when that might be?” Kirk asked eagerly. Sulu himself was also curious. After seeing her on the planet amidst her fallen colleagues it was impossible not to wonder how she had managed to survive. When the doctor replied, however, his words were far from reassuring.

“It may not be ever,” he told them gravely and Sulu felt his stomach clench. They couldn’t have come all this way only to see the last survivor die. From the look on Kirk’s face he was thinking the same thing. “While there’s no brain damage, Figg did sustain a great deal of injuries to her body and, apparently, her mind. Blood loss alone is enough to make her unstable. Now, I can save her from that, it’s a simple matter of transfusion, which we have already performed, but the radiation poisoning may be the thing that tips her over the edge.”

“Radiation poisoning?” Sulu blurted. Clearly he had missed something while he was on planet.

Spock raised his chin in that unreadable Vulcan way and Kirk scrubbed a hand over his faintly stubbled jaw. “Figg is showing early symptoms of radiation poisoning,” McCoy supplied. “How she managed it is completely beyond me, there was no radiation detected on the site, at least as far as our tricorders were able to distinguish, but it seems she had been subjected to prolonged exposure at some point in the recent past.”

“You’re kidding,” Sulu couldn’t help but exclaim. “Are we all safe?”

“We were not on the surface for long enough for any harmful effects to take hold,” Spock informed him. “And, as Dr. McCoy previously stated, there was no harmful radiation detected on site. It is improbable that we will suffer any ill-effect from our time on Praeda VI.”

“But our tricorders weren’t able to detect Dr. Figg’s lifesigns.” He looked around a little more frantically than he wanted to. After seeing so much death he was not ready to let go of the idea that he might be next, no matter how “improbable” Spock made it out to be. “Is it possible the radiation was effecting our equipment? Making it misread? Or even that there was just a general malfunction of the tricorders and they didn’t pick up on it?”

“It is unlikely. All of the equipment was successfully calibrated and tested prior to and following the mission. I am uncertain of why we did not read humanoid life signs beyond mere speculation. However,” he continued, “it is possible that the minerals in the cliff face were interfering with our readings. Dr. Figg’s life signs were very faint when we did reach her, it is not impossible that even minor interference could overwhelm the sensors enough to make her entirely unreadable.”

The words, cold and logical, were not enough to subdue Sulu’s frayed nerves, but he held back more questions, keenly aware that while Kirk was listening intently to his science officer, McCoy was examining Sulu closely. So rather than ask how a possibility of geological interference could be considered by anyone to be reassuring he instead asked, “But will she be alright?”

“She’s stable for now,” McCoy told him, gaze unwavering and deeply analytical. “Aside from those damned anomalies. But if she makes it through the night it’s likely we can keep her alive long enough to get her proper treatment. We won’t be getting any answers out of her, though, not for a while at least.”

The same something that had been flickering in and out of Sulu’s peripherals down on the planet tugged once more at the corner of his vision, but he forced himself not to look. There’s nothing there, he told himself, you don’t have to look because there’s nothing there. He swallowed hard.

“Keep me updated as to her condition, Doctor,” Kirk instructed McCoy, blissfully unaware of the anxiety beginning to blossom in the man standing next to him. “I want to know the moment there’s any change at all. Tomorrow morning we’ll begin beaming the bodies up here so you can get a closer look and let us know if there are any similar symptoms in the other colonists. We need to be certain the radiation is an isolated event.”

The flickering did not go away. Instead it seemed to be begging for him to look, an insistent pull in Sulu’s mind for him to acknowledge the movement. But he held on tightly as the pull grew more and more demanding.

“Is it not possible,” Spock was saying, “that the radiation poisoning you detected in your patient may be a causal factor in the brainwave anomalies? Certain types of radiation are known to have negative effects on neural systems and as this planet is relatively unexplored it is possible this is a type of radiation we have yet to encounter. Our understanding of its effects may be completely nonexistent to the point where damage to brain tissues is undetectable or unrecognizable by current medical scanners.”

“It is possible,” McCoy conceded, his eyes finally leaving Sulu to regard the Vulcan. “But it is very unlikely.”

Finally, the urge was too great. As casually as he could, Sulu darted his eyes in the direction of the flicker in an attempt to get a quick glance without being noticed. But when his eyes landed on a figure standing near the door he whipped his entire self around to stare, only to find that there was no one there. A trick of the mind, he figured uneasily. A creepy, disturbing trick of the mind, but a trick of the mind nonetheless.

“Sulu?”

All three of his superior officers were regarding him curiously, concern in two of the three sets of eyes.

“Is there something wrong, Mr. Sulu?” Kirk asked, casting a glance toward the door the figure had been standing at. Sulu couldn’t help but steal a look as well, if nothing else, just to reassure himself that there was no one there.

“I’m fine, sir,” he told the Captain as steadily as he could, though his heart was racing just as it had been the other times he had seen the ghostly flickers. He desperately tried to tame the panic that had risen in his throat as he spoke. “Sorry, I thought… I thought I saw something. My eyes have been playing tricks on me all afternoon, I must be tired.”

Kirk didn’t seem entirely convinced as he said, “Yes, it’s been a long day, I think we’re all a little tired. But perhaps you should let Dr. McCoy have a look at you just to be on the safe side.” Sulu nodded weakly. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, get some rest. Mr. Spock.”

The two officers left the room side-by-side, as was their custom, leaving Sulu standing awkwardly in front of McCoy’s desk. The doctor had not taken his eyes off the pilot and was currently getting to his feet, medical tricorder in hand. It let out a soft hum as it scanned and Bones looked between the screen and his patient with raised eyebrows.

“How long have your eyes been playing tricks?”

“Since we got down to the planet. It’s probably nothing, just the stress of the away mission or something. Nerves. I feel fine, just a little tired.”

McCoy hummed. “Your norepinephrine levels are a little high, so is your heart rate. What exactly have you been seeing?”

“Nothing,” he answered truthfully. “Just movement in the corner of my eye. Things flickering in and out of my peripheral. I thought there was someone standing by the door, but when I looked directly there was no one there.” He peered down at the tricorder anxiously. “It’s just exhaustion, I’ll be fine with a little sleep.

“Most likely,” Bones affirmed. The device gave one last little beep before he set it carefully down on the desk. “But you won’t be getting any like this.” He walked away, through the door into the main sickbay and, just as Sulu was wondering if he was supposed to follow, came back through with a hypo in hand. Hypos never really hurt, there was no needle to sting your skin, but they always had an odd sort of pressure that was strangely uncomfortable. Sulu couldn’t help but tense up as the medication was pressed into his upper arm. “A bit of a tranquilizer to bring your adrenaline back down, and you can take this” – he handed Sulu a second hypo – “when you want to get some sleep. Go back to your quarters, relax, get some rest. Let me know if you’re still seeing things tomorrow and we’ll do a full work-up. I think it would be best if you were removed from this assignment, at least for the time being. We can’t have you falling apart completely.”

A trickle of relief went through Sulu followed quickly by guilt. “With all due respect, Doctor, I’d rather see this through.”

McCoy held up a hand to silence him as he made his way back round to the chair behind his desk. “Norepinephrine is a stress hormone, a trigger for the fight or flight response. You’ve seen a lot today and I don’t blame you for wanting to get some closure, but if this mission is having adverse affects on your health I can’t in good conscience let you continue.”

The tranquilizer was already beginning to take effect, the coolness of it running through Sulu’s arms and chest, soothing his muscles and quieting his nerves. Seeing so many dead scientists was certainly reason enough to get worked up and nervous, but after seeing all their faces and learning all their names it was difficult to accept that he would just be pulled away from it so soon and so suddenly.

“Doctor, I would really rather see this through. I feel it is my duty to-“

“When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?”

“What?”

That same studious look was in McCoy’s eye, the one that said he knew more about a person than they did. “You’ve been looking tired for a while, it’s not just this mission. How long has it been since you slept through the night?”

Sulu let out a breath and stared at the desk as he considered the answer. “A few weeks?” he answered. “I have no trouble staying asleep, but falling asleep isn’t as easy as it used to be. And I’ve been getting in some extra workouts with Chekov lately, too, so I’ve been up earlier this past week.” He looked up at the doctor, wondering how much he really knew. For the past few weeks Sulu’s mind had been busy, an overwhelming presence intruding on his thoughts that he didn’t feel was within the boundaries of the doctor-patient relationship. He hoped it wasn’t obvious what he had been obsessing about of late.

“Any particular reason you’ve been having trouble?”

Yes. “No.”

“Hm.” McCoy pursed his lips and through the soothing cool of the tranquilizer Sulu could vaguely feel himself panic. “Well,” McCoy continued at last, “You shouldn’t have any trouble tonight, not with what I gave you. But if you keep having problems come see me and I can give you something to help calm your nerves. I don’t want to go careening into that planet at terminal velocity because you’ve decided to take a nap at the helm.”

“Thank you.”

“You can resume your duties tomorrow, but no more of this Praeda VI business until the day after. I want you rested and seeing clearly. Now go get some sleep, Sulu, you look terrible.”

“Yes sir.”

~O~

Chekov set his tray down and took his seat across from Sulu. The dining hall was fairly busy, most tables were full and the two of them had to share theirs with three men from Engineering who were busy discussing a tool one of them had lost somewhere in a ceiling panel. With so many people in one place it was a challenge to speak without raising your voice, but at the moment the pair were silently enjoying their meals. At least one of them was.

After a few bites of his food Chekov looked up to ask Sulu a question only to find the pilot was gazing at him blankly, food untouched. It happened sometimes where thoughts would overtake him and Sulu would wind up staring at something without really seeing it. More often than not it would be a person he was staring at, which made for some awkward encounters, but at this point in the mission Chekov was used to it.

“Hikaru,” he said. No response. “Hikaru,” slightly louder. Still nothing. Must be some thought. “Sulu!”

Sulu started and blinked hard. “Sorry,” he replied. “I must have gotten distracted.” He picked up his fork and turned over some of his food, but still didn’t eat any.

Chekov watched him play with his meal for a moment before saying, “Maybe you should go to medical, you haven’t looked well at all today.”

Sulu gave a wry smile. “I was just there yesterday, the doctor said there was nothing wrong. I’m fine, Pavel, just a bit tired is all.” He speared some food on his fork and lifted it up to examine it. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t keep you up did I? I tried not to make much noise.”

With over 400 people on board it had been amazingly simple for the two men to acquire adjoining rooms. Working most shifts together and spending a lot of their free time together as well had made it somewhat beneficial to sleep next door to one another. Normally it was perfectly fine, both of them being easy sleepers, but there would be the occasional night when one would get back after a late shift or another would be up late working on some project and the surprisingly thin walls made it difficult not to be disturbed. The night before had been one of these rare occasions.

Although the away trip to the planet had been relatively short, Sulu had come back bedraggled and agitated. He had blamed it on nerves after seeing such a horrible sight and the visit with McCoy didn’t seem to do him any good. He had gone to sickbay and retrieved a sedative, but rather than return to his room and take the medication as ordered he had gone to the botany lab to water and deadhead his plants, claiming it would calm him more. It had been late when he got back and Chekov had heard him enter his room and proceed to pace for another hour. The rest of the night had been similarly disruptive, the pilot making notes, reading journals and generally wandering about, anything but go to bed. It wasn’t until very late that he had finally gone to sleep.

Through it all, Chekov had stayed up listening. Normally with a noisy neighbour he would have plugged up his ears or listened to music, and in all honesty Sulu had not been loud at all, but he forwent all of that. Instead, he had stayed up, straining to hear the soft footfalls and hushed voice commands, barely audible through the wall, waiting for his friend to finally rest. They had all heard about the colony and what was waiting in it, and Chekov didn’t mind admitting that he was worried. The last time he had seen a dead body it had scared him half to death and he couldn’t possibly imagine the horrors of 49 murdered scientists and one barely breathing.

“You didn’t,” he told Sulu with a shrug, “but I heard you get in late and I have a feeling you never took that sedative.”

Sulu smiled sheepishly and at long last put some food in his mouth, which was sight enough to make Chekov relax a little. “I wanted to do some research on what they’ve been doing on this planet,” Sulu divulged before taking another bite. “There was some pretty heavy-duty equipment down there and I wanted to find out what it was for.”

“And?”

“Nothing too exciting. They’ve been working on a new fuel source, something to do with geochemical fission, but the compounds are only found on this planet so I don’t think it would be of much use.”

“I don’t see why they would, we already have clean renewable energy in every starship.”

“It did seem a little strange,” Sulu agreed with a frown. “But I suppose it’s all in the name of scientific discovery.” He took a few more bites before a smile broke out on his face and he looked back up to his companion with renewed enthusiasm. “Oh, but you should’ve seen it down there, Pavel, it was beautiful. Lush forests as far as the eye can see, beautiful flowers and trees, Uhura would have loved it. I wanted to bring some back with me to keep, but I don’t think the Captain would appreciate the request under these circumstances. I do want to go back down though, at least to smell it again. It was intoxicating.” He seemed to catch notice of Chekov who was doing his best to hide a smile. “What?”

Chekov couldn’t help it. His smile broke completely and he even gave a snort. “You have such a one track mind, Sulu. Get down on a planet for a grand adventure and all you can think of is the plants.”

“You didn’t see them. The leaves were shimmering and the flowers had the most wonderful smell. I don’t know how anyone could focus on rocks in a place so full of life.” He paused to let Chekov snigger a little louder than he intended to. “I could get lost in that forest and I wouldn’t even mind. The trees were at least fifteen times your height. Ten times the height of a regular person.”

“Careful Sulu, I may be a bit shorter than you, but I’m powerful.”

“You are rather feisty.”

Using his spoon as a catapult, Chekov flung a green cube of vegetable concentrate at Sulu who artfully dodged it. “I’m better in a fight than you when you don’t have your sword.”

“While we’re on the subject of swords-“

“I wasn’t aware we were.”

“Since you mention it,” he tried again, “I think until this is over we should suspend the lessons. There’s going to be a lot to do as long as we’re orbiting Praeda VI and I don’t know how long that’s going to be.”

“Orbit,” Chekov spat. “Nothing is worse for a navigator than orbit. There is nothing to do, I just sit there hitting volume buttons and hoping the Keptin doesn’t notice. It’s been over a month since I was put on an away team, I’m beginning to think they don’t trust me anymore.”

“We both get the short end of the stick. I don’t think McCoy’s going to let the Captain send me back down there for a good long while.”

“Did anyone say anything about how long we’re here?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. I haven’t actually seen the Captain since I got back yesterday and Mr. Spock didn’t say anything while I was there.”

“Nor after you left.”

Following the away teams return only one member had returned to the Bridge. Spock had been sent to take the Comm, but Kirk and McCoy had disappeared into the medical bay with their sole survivor and presumably designated themselves her personal guard. It was said that there were even security officers posted nearby to ensure her attacker, seeing as they didn’t know what it could possibly be, did not return to finish the job. If they showed up for Alpha shift today, Chekov decided, he would ask about orbit and about the colony and about anything else he could think up a question for.

“Postponing lessons sounds like a good idea,” he said, returning to the original topic, secretly thrilled at the prospect of skipping fencing. “If you’re not sleeping well it would not be a good idea to be playing around with sharp things.”

Sulu huffed. “I don’t think that should be a problem. It’ll be a miracle if I can stay awake all through Alpha shift. It’s good I won’t have to do much, I’m not sure I could pilot a bumper car right now let alone a starship.” A mix of concern and horror flooded Chekov’s face and Sulu quickly amended, “I’m exaggerating, of course, I’m fine. A little tired, sure, but a bit of coffee will wake me right up.”

“Should you be working?”

“Probably not,” Sulu admitted, “But I’ll be damned if they don’t let me see this through. I’m too invested.” Chekov watched with satisfaction as a chunk of fruit finally passed Sulu’s lips. “I might do some more research on who those people were. It takes a certain kind of person to drop everything and move planet just for some fuel, especially one so far from home.”

“They were all human?”

“I didn’t say that. Most of them were, but there were two or three Vulcans, a couple of Betazoids, it’s hard to say. You can’t always tell a species just by looking at someone.”

“I could never do it.”

“No one can, there are some parallel evolutions that would amaze you. There was someone I knew at the Academy who I thought for a full year was a Zilogot, but it turned out they were actually a Llantorot. Completely different sides of the Dipper.”

“No, I mean move to a whole new planet for six years to study rocks.”

Sulu cast him a wry smile. “You’re not a geologist.”

Chekov rolled his eyes. “Anything. I wouldn’t move across the galaxy to study anything.” He used his fork to push his meal around on its plate and turn the cubes into a smiley face. “It’s too long to be away from Earth, I would miss it.”

“You’re on this ship,” Sulu offered. “And you will be for another two years unless you change your mind all of a sudden.” Dramatic suspicion contorted his features and he asked, “You’re not changing your mind, are you Pavel?”

“No! Of course not! I can’t let you have all the fun. Besides, we stop off at Starbases and take shoreleave on Earth when we’re in that area, it’s not really leaving, is it?” Sulu didn’t answer and Chekov sighed lightly. Checking the wall clock there wasn’t much time before their shift began and several hours of monotony awaited them on the Bridge. He wondered if he could get away with a light nap at the helm if he sat upright enough. Sulu would notice, but he was certain no one else would unless they went around in front of him.

“Well, as long as you’re staying,” Sulu said, “I guess I’ll hang around too.” He smiled warmly and Chekov could feel the deep affection of his friend in that one look. “Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t here. Who would I play Pong with on the monitor during night shifts?”

“Riley?”

“Eat your vegetables.”


	4. Epidemic

“But they haven’t been getting any worse?”

“No, it’s about the same.”

“And you’ve been taking the sleeping aide I’ve been giving you?”

“Yes.”

McCoy sighed and retracted his medical tricorder. “Don’t lie to me, Sulu, I know you’re barely sleeping. There’s no use trying to hide it, I’m your doctor for God’s sake.”

“What, do you have eyes on the crew at all hours now?” Sulu asked, only half joking, “Telling you who’s sleeping and who’s not? Is that why there’s always so few nurses in here, they’re all out spying for you?”

“I don’t need them to, I can read everything from those bags under your eyes.” The doctor gave the pilot a look reminiscent of a parent whose child wont eat their vegetables and Sulu couldn’t help but feel petulant. “You realize hallucinations and paranoia are a side effect of sleep-deprivation. This whole things might be solved just by you getting a good nights rest.”

Sulu disagreed. There was something about how he’d been feeling lately and the things he’d been seeing, a quality to the visions that teased him mercilessly, that made it tragically clear to him that they weren’t going to be solved quite so easily. But rather than argue he replied with, “You’re probably right.”

“Damn straight I’m right. Now, I’m going to give you another sedative and this time I want you to use it. If I find out you go without again tonight I’ll send Chapel in after you and then you’ll wish my nurses only spied.” Setting his tricorder down on the examination table next to Sulu, McCoy spun on his heel and marched over to the cabinet at the end of the room that housed a few hypos and their fluids. As he pulled out a bottle in preparation for filling the needle, he paused, his eyes fixed on something in the other room.

“Doctor?” Sulu asked.

McCoy cast him a glance, but his gaze returned to the room where the beds lay for overnight patients. After a brief moment of paralysis, the doctor placed the hypo and bottle in the cabinet and strode through the door, telling Sulu, “I’ll be right back.”

Sulu stayed put, watching the doorway curiously, wondering what could have possibly attracted McCoy’s attention so suddenly. He tried to let his mind wander to other things – his plants were drooping a bit, so that new fertilizer wasn’t working right; Chekov had been rather bleary-eyed that morning, his sleep schedule must have been thrown off without fencing to get him up; Uhura had requested his help in some game or other he used to play as one of his fleeting hobbies, did he still have his books? – but much the same as trying to look anywhere but at the flickers in his sight, diverting his attention didn’t appear to be an option.

There weren’t many people in the other room, the ship had been quiet for some time now, but the recollection that Dr. Figg was still laying in that room unconscious for some reason made him feel cold.

He was at the doorway in seconds and found that what had distracted his physician was an officer with a very familiar look in his eye. As he was soothed by both McCoy and one of the on-call nurses, the officer, a security man Sulu recognized from somewhere, was staring with distress at the planets sole survivor laying in the bed across from him. Despite never seeing that look in person, Sulu had felt it grace his face many times in the past two days. The man had seen something that should not have been there, a flicker in his vision that shot fear and panic through his entire system.

“There’s no one there, La Pointe, it’s only Dr. Figg,” McCoy was saying, but the man shook his head with certainty.

“She was right there, doctor, I saw her, standing over her bed.” His voice trembled and Sulu found himself gripping the doorframe tightly as that same anxiety began to build in himself. La Pointe continued to watch the survivor’s bedside carefully, never letting his caretakers’ voices or hands wrench his focus away. “I saw her! I don’t care how much you say she isn’t real.”

“It was just a dream,” the nurse told him softly, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. “You must have been asleep again.”

“I was awake!” he insisted. “I was awake and I saw her.”

“Saw who?” Sulu said. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now all eyes turned to him, including La Pointe’s. Realizing he had given himself away, Sulu let go of the doorframe and walked further into the room, casting glances between the two occupied beds. “Who did you see?”

A look of shocked relief overcame La Pointe’s face and he breathed out, “A woman.”

“A woman?”

“I don’t know her. I’ve never seen her before in my life, but in the past day I’ve seen her four times. Always right there, right near Dr. Figg.”

Sulu looked intently at Figg, half hoping the vision would appear for him as well, but all he could see was a badly beaten woman laying in a bed hooked up to all sorts of machines. But he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the woman La Pointe was describing was the same apparition that had been plaguing him since he set foot on Praeda VI. “You see her clearly?” he asked, desperate for some answers. But none ever came.

As he was turned away a second nurse had appeared and injected La Pointe with enough sedative to knock him out for good. Sulu turned to find the man being eased back into his pillow as McCoy glared at the pilot with a mixture of rage and concern. Grabbing Sulu by the arm, he marched back into the examination room and Sulu stumbled along after him.

“Who was that?” Sulu asked. “I’ve seen him before, but I can’t quite remember…”

Letting go of Sulu’s arm, McCoy twisted around to point a finger at him threateningly. “You are not to repeat a word of what you heard, understand?”

“Yes, okay, but who is he?”

“He’s a security officer, you probably saw him when he relieved you and the away team two days ago.”

“And he’s been seeing things too? Why didn’t you tell me other people-“

“Because it’s not other people,” McCoy interrupted, storming over to the cabinet to retrieve the items he had replaced. “It’s one pilot and one security guard. Two men with similar symptoms from completely different causes. Sleep deprivation and head trauma. If you’re looking for an epidemic, there isn’t any.” He pressed the hypo, now full, into Sulu’s hand and cast him a warning gaze. “I don’t want you to go thinking there’s some great conspiracy at work here when all that’s happening is you refusing to take your prescription. Get yourself on a regular sleep schedule and the hallucinations will go away.”

“But it isn’t just us.”

“There is no ‘us.’”

“But there is and there’s three of us. Back on the planet, on the first day, right after you and the Captain and Mr. Spock came back up here I saw someone near the doors, but when I turned to check there was no one there. Except there was someone still in the room, someone at the other door. He saw it too.”

“Don’t start-“

“He saw it, he admitted it to me. I’ll bet you if you can find him he’ll admit it to you too. I don’t know his name, I’ve never worked with him before, but if I saw him I would recognize him.”

McCoy sighed. He didn’t seem angry anymore, just weary. He placed a hand on Sulu’s shoulder and said, “If you find him again, bring him to me, but until then I need you to sleep. We need to know this isn’t just a false alarm. If there’s really something going on here, I’ll tell you, but until then-“

“Sleep.”

“Yes. Come back again tomorrow and we’ll run more tests if it’ll make you feel better, but there’s nothing we can do until we’ve ruled out exhaustion.”

Sulu nodded begrudgingly and looked down at the syringe in his hand. “I hope you’re right, Doc,” he said. “I was looking forward to having a quiet week on the ship for once.” Then, still mulling over the security officer laying in the other room, he turned and left.

McCoy was concerned. Not just about the hallucinations Sulu was experiencing or even about his refusal to get a good nights rest, but about his intense fixation on finding an alternative cause to his problems. Seeing La Pointe in such a state of distress clearly exacerbated the situation and he only wished that the pilot had stayed out of the room.

Not only did the short exchange encourage Sulu’s preoccupation, but it could also have unfortunate consequences once his other patient had awoken.

After a moments consideration of the situation, McCoy shook his head and took a seat at his desk. There was no point in dwelling over something he had no influence in, he would just have to wait until the time came where he did. Swinging his feet up onto its surface he retrieved his PADD to look over the officers who had managed to avoid his medbay for just a bit too long.

Jim, of course, was at the top of the list. For one of the top Captains in Starfleet, Kirk certainly had a knack for avoiding responsibilities. Masters’ follow-up was also getting up there and Scotty’s most recent check-up was getting less and less recent. Along with them were a couple dozen other low-level officers in need of booster shots, physio and naggings, but fortunately he was able to remove Sulu from the list.

For now, however, he had a bit of downtime. Without any appointments, Bones was blessed with an afternoon dedicated to catching up on his research and doing some more exploration into Figg’s mysterious radiation. The thought made him look over to the doorway into her room and he realized he had left the medicine cabinet doors open.

Grunting, he swung his feet off the desk and threw the PADD back down before standing up. As he crossed the room he called out, “Computer. Where is Lt. Sulu?”

“Lt. Sulu is in his quarters,” the computer replied.

McCoy smiled. Finally someone listening to instructions, he thought as he swung the cabinet doors shut. He intended to return to his desk to get the research underway, but before he could he hesitated. There was an odd feeling creeping up his back, like chills, but slower and more electric, and his instincts were telling him for some reason to check on his patient.

Just looking into the room through the doorway, he could see everything was all right. Both his patients were sleeping peacefully and his nurses, what few remained while the others took advantage of the slow day to take a more relaxed lunch, were busying themselves with cleaning out some of their stock. But McCoy trusted his instincts, they were rarely wrong, so he strode over to La Pointe’s bedside to have a quick look at his readings.

Everything seemed normal, just as it should be, and then he turned his attention to Figg.

The scientist was still out cold, the same as she had been since the moment they found her, and the pain medication they were giving her just in case seemed to be flowing well. Her readings were weak, but from the state of her it could have easily been much worse. The radiation levels and beta anomalies were being monitored by specialized equipment and a quick glance at them told him they were just as odd and anomalous as they had been last time he’d checked.

Instincts on the fritz, he thought with a shrug. Must be all this worrying.

A beep sounded from the other side of the room. McCoy looked to find a sight that made him raise an eyebrow. La Pointe, who had been heavily sedated and sleeping peacefully only moments ago, was now sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide open and pointed directly at the doctor. The beep had sounded from his monitors, which were now reading an abnormally high heart rate, but that wasn’t possible. The sedative they had given him should have slowed his heartbeat considerably, not increased it, and yet the reading was steadily increasing.

“She’s here,” La Pointe whispered.

The horror in his voice, the clenching of his jaw and the slight tremble of his entire being all spoke of something much larger than a simple bad dream. Fear was spawning in McCoy’s stomach as he asked, “Who’s here, son?”

The bed stricken redshirt flicked his gaze up to meet McCoy’s eyes for only a moment before dropping them again to the doctor’s chest. “She’s right there,” he whispered, lifting his drug-heavy hand to point at him limply. “She’s right beside you.”

~O~

Chekov ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. He loved his job, really he did, but when doing his job meant sitting in one place staring at the same horizon line for hours on end it was rather disenchanting. Leaning back in his seat he cast a glance over to the helmsman who had taken Sulu’s position for the day. Even days like this were salvageable by Sulu’s easy presence and quietly sarcastic commentary, but once again he was absent from the Bridge.

There was little the two of them didn’t tell one another, and yet he felt there was something important happening that his friend was keeping well out of earshot. It was an odd feeling for Sulu to have a secret. For the past year or so Chekov had heard every detail of Sulu’s latest fascination, every time he felt homesick, every time he had some spat with another officer, there was very little Chekov didn’t know.

In return Sulu knew about every one of Chekov’s romantic entanglements, all of his secret grudges, and of course he knew every time Chekov had had too much to drink on shore leave and then lied to McCoy about it to get the day off. It had been a rare occasion where Chekov had lied to Sulu and then only for the most important reasons.

But here they were – or rather here Chekov was – with a situation in which one of them was uninformed. Chekov didn’t like it.

More than that, he didn’t like being abandoned to orbit-duty all on his own with Lt. something-or-other and a faction of distracted superior officers. There had been zero orders in the past three hours as Kirk had busied himself signing documents and looking pensive. Three hours that Chekov sat in silence waiting for a break for lunch. Uhura had been kind enough to send him a message via his control panel at the two hour mark asking where Sulu was to which Chekov had been forced to respond, “I don’t know.”

In all likelihood, the pilot had gone to sickbay, a location he seemed to be spending an increased amount of time in the past couple of days. He could only assume it was a follow-up for the sleeplessness that Sulu had been suffering of late, although he realized that it could just as easily be a psychiatric visit as a result of the away mission that had started this hellish planetary boredom. Chekov himself had been forced into therapy for a short period himself following the events with Kang, and he knew how tempting it would be to hide visits of such a personal nature.

But even so, he wished the ordeal hadn’t put such a swift and sudden end to their fencing lessons. Sure he had hated the early mornings and he wasn’t any good with a sword, but he missed having the excuse to spend even more time with his best friend. As it was, they had hardly seen each other since arriving at the planet, and even though it had only been a couple of days, Chekov missed him. He wondered if Sulu would return to duty after whatever secret appointment he had was finished.

“Jim!” McCoy’s sudden transmission over the intercom made Chekov jump a little and he turned slightly to see if he could catch a glimpse of the Captain’s reaction to the curt address. “Jim! Are you there?”

Kirk made a face and pressed the comm button. “Yes, I’m here Dr. McCoy, what can I-“

“Jim, she’s here! The woman!”

“Woman?” Kirk frowned as sat forward in his seat, suddenly deeply involved. “What do you mean, Bones, what woman?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never seen her before in my life, but she’s here. But a moment ago she wasn’t!”

“What are you saying? That she just appeared out of thin air?”

“I don’t know where she came from,” McCoy spat back, clearly growing more and more agitated. “But she wasn’t there a moment ago and then I turn my back and suddenly she’s there! I have a patient here who was seeing her before, when she wasn’t here, but my God, Jim-“

“Bones? What is it? Bones?”

“It’s Dr. Figg! But, that’s not possible-“

“The woman is Dr. Figg?”

The entire Bridge crew had paused in their duties now, full attention turned to the frantic doctor and the Captain as he tried to make sense of it all.

“No, the woman appeared by Figg’s bedside, but Figg…” There came the sound of beeping, one that anyone would recognize as the crash tone. It came frantic and pulsing over the intercom and was soon followed by McCoy yelling out orders to his nurses. “I don’t know how it’s happening, Jim, she was fine a moment ago, but- Damn it all, I said cortisone! She’s dying, Jim! And I don’t know what’s causing it!”

“Spock!” Kirk called out. The Vulcan nodded and hurried over to the doors of the turbolift as Kirk stood fro his seat. “We’re on our way down there, Bones, just keep her going until-“

“She’s gone! She’s gone,” McCoy cried out, defeated rather than aggravated. The beeps had become a tone, long and telling, and the crew sat in shock as they listened to the sudden death of Dr. Figg. Kirk and Spock stood where they were, momentarily uncertain as to how to proceed.

Chekov heard the blood gushing in his ears as he tried to process what had just happened. He didn’t feel upset or disturbed, but mainly confused. The exchange between the Captain and his Chief Medical Officer had lasted less than a minute and yet it felt as though the ship had suffered some great loss. He supposed it had. The lone survivor of their rescue mission had died, suddenly and unexpectedly, and yet he thought he should be feeling more than he did.

The entire crew sat frozen on the Bridge for several seconds listening as McCoy formally reported the death and the tone was stopped. Eyes turned back to Kirk, awaiting instructions, but the Captain seemed just as lost as his crew. “We have to stay here,” he told them. “We still need to find out what happened. Uhura, if you could send a transmission to-“

“Help.”

Kirk fell silent. The room felt breathless, no one certain if they had heard what they thought they had. But once again the voice, soft and feminine, came over the intercom. “Help,” it said.

“Hello?” Kirk replied cautiously.

“Help.”

Kirk paused. And then with a look of deep curiosity said, “Dr. Figg?”

“HELP.”

The voice came like a cannon from all sides, pounding their eardrums, and forcing Chekov to duck his head and cover his ears. The breath left his body, as though the sheer force of the word had punched him in the gut. His heart was racing, his head felt dizzy, panic and guilt rose in his throat. A panic attack, he thought, but it was all he could think. Even after the word had ended it felt as though the noise continued, too loud and all encompassing to hear, burrowing itself into every fibre of his being, crushing his bones and searing his brain. Screaming didn’t even occur to him.

And then the noise stopped.

There was no actual change in what Chekov heard as there hadn’t been any audible noise to begin with, but the pressure subsided and the fear began to drain into his stomach. Tentatively, he raised his head, looking up to find the others in similar positions, all except for Spock who looked suitably confused. Kirk was on his knees, eyes wide and staring. So preoccupied was he with the sound and the crew, that Chekov at first didn’t notice the people.

Standing around the Bridge, along the walls, between the stations, filling the space around the captain’s chair, were people. Turning in his seat, Chekov found they were clustered in front of the viewscreen as well, pushed together by the sheer number of them. All of them seemed to be staring as well, their eyes trained on Kirk where he crouched, their gazes deep and permeating. Kirk himself looked horrified. The look on his face was like all of the life had fallen out of him, as though the stares of these people had crushed his very being and left him destroyed. There was no mistaking the recognition in his eyes or the tears that threatened to cloud it.

The people were diverse, their ages, genders, ethnicities unlimited. And yet Chekov was absolutely certain that Kirk knew each and every one of them. It seemed that a majority of the crowd was composed of children, their expressions just as unreadable as those of their elders. But no one moved. No one spoke. It took a moment before Chekov saw the man.

An elderly man was standing amongst the crowd, his hair white and his features drawn, and he was not looking at Kirk. Rather, he appeared to be focused on the pilot. Glancing over at the helmsman, it seemed that he had noticed the individual as well and was returning the old man’s gaze with a look of shock that mirrored Kirk’s own.

In fact, looking carefully among the people, Chekov was able to pick out several individuals who were looking at someone other than Kirk. It was difficult to distinguish them at first, because their numbers were so dispersed, but they were most certainly staring at other members of the crew, some of which had not yet noticed and others who were gazing back in astonishment. It was buried deep in the crowd, standing by the engineering station, that Chekov found someone who was looking at him.

Once more, he felt his breath leave his body, the fear sitting in his gut creeping up his insides and everything else in the world seemed to melt away as time stopped.

“No,” he wanted to say. But his mouth didn’t move and he remained silent. No no no no no no no, this wasn’t possible.

And yet here he was, no older than he had been the day he died, not quite a man, but no longer a boy, hair softly curled, that same nose, those same eyes. Everyone had always told them they had the same eyes.

Chekov wanted to run away. He wanted to close his eyes and then open them to find the crowd had gone, that he had just fallen asleep at his station or gotten too caught up in a daydream gone wrong. But he could not move. And no matter how many times he blinked Piotr was still there, unmoving, eyes unblinking.

But you aren’t real, Chekov thought, I made you up inside my head. And yet here he was, Chekov’s own brother, staring back at him from across the room as though he had always been there.


End file.
